Though Forbidden
by SallySorrell
Summary: A nice variety of RyPay oneshots. Don't like? Don't read. I'd love to add more if you have requests!
1. Overdose

Is it possible to overdose on a person?

I know there are people you can only get along with for so long. But, I mean, is there something wrong with being with the same person…constantly? And constantly still doesn't seem to be enough.

I just can't get enough of him…

Let's see... he's been with me my _whole_ life. And I'm speaking literally.

Oh, that's my other question: Is it wrong that I can't get enough of my twin brother?

So, I've sat by him every day at lunch. Every day I've ever gone to school, I sat beside him. Any day I ever stayed home sick, so did he.

Any time I went to vocal coaching or dancing lessons, he insisted on coming.

Everywhere he is, I am, and vice-versa.

But I love him, and I can't seem to get enough.

Listen to him sing. Don't say that's enough. It's not.

Have you seen him dance recently? My gosh, he's amazing. That's not enough.

When he talks... his voice is so smooth, relaxing. That's not near enough.

And he's so peaceful… when he's… sleeping. Weird to say I watch him sleep, right?

It's calming, but it's not enough.

Has he kissed you recently? I think not. He's kissed me recently, and I can't even say that's enough.

I'm running out of ideas…


	2. Cover Story

He hated to tell her that he'd been using her.

He didn't want to hear the painful sobs lapse her body.

He didn't want to watch her cheery green eyes fade into a sullen, unforgiving grey.

He didn't want to think about all the things she'd do as soon as he left her.

As far as _she_ was concerned, he meant the world. He meant everything to her, and she meant everything to him. _She_ was his cover-story, the reason he could live the life he wanted. Without _her_ of course.

That's what Ryan dreaded, as he woke up that morning, beside Kelsi Nielsen (Evans, rather, as they had been married.)

He looked cautiously at her, not daring wake her, not yet. He saw her hand, draped over his. Her wedding ring gleamed, stealing the single beam of sunlight from the high windows.

Ryan pulled his hand gently out from underneath his wife's (oh he loathed the word) and set it over his chest.

Today would be the day he told her. Told her she meant nothing to him. Told her she was only his cover story. Told her he loved another woman.

After all, his _lover_ had planned this day. Today would be the day they were re-united and never broken apart, never needing a cover-story again. She had worked on the plan for years. Six years, which, oh how ironically, is how long Ryan had been married to Kelsi (he had counted the days, waiting for them to end.)

Ryan waited until his _wife_ was sitting beside him at their breakfast counter, holding his hand (not part of his original plan.)

"Do you know what today is?" she asked, admiring his flawless face.

Of course he did, he counted the days, remember?

"Our wedding anniversary." He told her, smiling, "How could I forget?"

Oh what a brilliant actor he was, she didn't suspect a thing.

Which only made it worse for him to tell her the truth…

But he did so anyway, and all his fears became reality.

Her eyes became cold and emotionless. She sobbed there on the table until well past noon. And she threw the wedding ring (among other things) at Ryan, hoping that she hit him and paralyzed him.

And that's when he left the house (precisely after he had a vase thrown at his head.)  
He drove quickly to the park, where his lover told him to meet. He had retrieved the ring (he promised to give it to her.)

He felt sympathy for Kelsi, but not enough to turn the car around. So he arrived at the park, walked casually to the meeting place (a simple park bench) and waited. Not for long.

There she was. Perfection stood before him.

Perfection stood with a hand on her hips, golden hair falling in curls over her shoulders, brown eyes gleaming.

"I love you." She told him.

He told her the same, and then kissed her, more passionately than he could ever force himself to kiss Kelsi.

"How'd she take it?"

Ryan shook his head, "Not well."

And he showed her his bruised face as proof. She caressed it.

"Oh, poor little brother." She whispered so sweetly into his ear.

He slid the ring onto her finger, and she smiled at him, sitting in his lap now.

That only made it worse to tell him she'd been using him…


	3. Can You keep a Secret?

Secrets... I have lots of them.

I told Taylor a secret once. That was great. She looked me straight in the eyes and promised she'd never tell anyone. That's when I said I loved someone.

I told Gabriella a secret once. Later that day. I told her I loved someone in that very classroom. Someone in that very biology lab. She blushed.

I told Troy a secret once. I told him I loved someone in that very classroom, and I loved them more than I should. He looked mad, and I didn't talk to Gabriella any more that day.

I told Kelsi a secret once. I told her that I loved someone in that classroom more than I should, and that it certainly wasn't Gabriella. Kelsi blushed that time.

I told Zeke a secret once. I told him that I loved someone in that very room more than I should and that it wasn't Gabriella or Kelsi. He wasn't paying attention; his attention was glued to a desk near the front of the room. So was mine.

I told Chad a secret once. I told him that I loved someone in that very room (near the front row) more than I should that wasn't Gabriella or Kelsi. He told me it better not be Jason.

I told Sharpay a secret once. I told her I loved someone in that very classroom, near the front row, more than I should that wasn't Gabriella, Kelsi, or a guy.  
She looked around the room, knowing very well that she a front row seat in the lab.

And you know what she did?

She told me a secret at lunch. She told me she loved me too. Then she kissed my cheek, and I decided secrets weren't worth keeping that way.


	4. A Letter For my Sister

Sharpay,

I'm sorry I'm leaving, but... well, I'll explain:

Why couldn't I have a brother? A twin brother, is that too much to ask?

But _no_, I just happen to have a twin sister.

I love you and all, but really... My life would probably be a million times better if you were a boy.

Maybe I wouldn't be your slave/dance partner/ barely brother if you were a boy.

Heck, maybe I'd be on a sports team or something normal, not theater.

Respect. I'm sure I'd get more of that.

And people are afraid of me, because I'm related to you. Yah, that's great when you're trying to ask someone to prom. A _girl_ to prom. Those rumors would be gone too.

My wardrobe, that would be greatly affected, I know. My outfits (I wouldn't call them 'outifts', would I?) probably wouldn't match. Ooh, or jeans. Jeans and t-shirts. Or have your _sister_ dress you, that's not weird at all.

But, if I had a twin brother, I'd be his punching bag, not a dance partner. His second string on a sports team, mean and not well known. And my mom would take the liberty of planning my outfits anyway.

So I guess it wouldn't matter.

Oh heck with it, Sharpay, I love you. And I'm not going anywhere.

~Ry


	5. All to Run Away

High School graduation. Something I dreaded…

And I only dreaded it because our parents were returning from some ridiculous excuse of a business trip to throw us (my sister and I) a party. I didn't want a party.

Shar promised me that immediately after the graduation ceremonies, we'd leave.

We spent the past year working on the most brilliant, novel worthy cover-story you've ever heard. We'd doctored photo albums, driver's licenses, even our birth certificates.

All this to run away, and it was worth it.

As soon as we left the school auditorium (for the last time) we'd go pick up our car.

Not Sharpay's senseless pink mustang, that's not the best way to blend in.

We went and bought the cheapest car at a local junk lot. Some muted-blue car, tiny, whatever, it works.

It's our getaway car, and that's what matters.

We're going to get it, and drive somewhere out of state (whatever sounds good at the time) and first thing, get married. Then… I don't know. Adopt kids, I'm sure.

Then to Broadway. A husband and wife duo sure to grab some attention (and money, we need that.) There's more, but I think I've told you enough. I've got to get back to school. For graduation of course.

So, if you're reading this, my name is Ryan Evans. That certainly isn't my sister. And her name is Sharpay Jones.


	6. Severo, Forbidden

Finally.

He stood beside his wife, holding his child so gently in his arms.

That's what a passer-by would've thought.

In reality, he stood beside his sister, holding the child they had finally adopted.

Severo was the girl's name. An odd name, certainly. But something has to top Sharpay.

The word was derived from an Italian word meaning 'forbidden.'

And would you know that if you didn't speak Italian?

Forbidden, because the two could never love. Never should've 'married'. Never should have adopted a child, and certainly shouldn't have tried to have their own.

"She's absolutely gorgeous." Sharpay told Ryan. She kissed his cheek, oh so tenderly.

They admired the little girl that had taken a year to officially adopt.

They chose her carefully, so she could be passed off as their own (another addition to the things they had done wrong.)

What hair she had was blonde, of course. Her skin creamy and pale.

Her eyes were a greenish-blue, teal even. But that was the best they could do.

Ryan leaned to his daughter's face, pale and smooth, and kissed it gratefully.

"Finally," he said serenely, "A perfect family."

"No," Sharpay corrected, brushing some of Ryan's hair from his eyes, "The most wrong, illegal family the world will ever know."

But she smiled. Sharpay lived for drama, after all.


	7. Being Serious

My sister is insane sometimes.

Okay, most of the time.

Last year, whenever a girl would come up to me, poof! Sharpay would show up from nowhere.

If I were going to try out for the play, she was too, romantic leads and all (we earned plenty of glares from the audience and student body.)

I could sit anywhere in the lunchroom, and then she'd appear there. And put all her stuff on the chairs. Not weird at all, right?

She insisted on going to the movies with me, and never invited anyone else.

She tore up my homework a couple times. I don't know if that's relevant, but I'll include it.

Our schedules were the same, every year. And she'd sit behind me. Every day. If I ever turned around to look at her, she'd be watching me back.

And I never got prom tickets.

I know Sharpay did…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I take some things too seriously.

My brother's love life is one of them.

Last year, I kept Kelsi, Martha, Gabriella and Taylor as far away from him as humanly possible, that was a chore.

If he wanted the male lead in a play, then dang-it I needed the female one.

Wherever he sat at lunch, I'd spread my stuff on the remaining chairs (yes, I carried two extra bags around just for this purpose.)  
I'd go see movies with him, anything he wanted. Just so he wouldn't ask anyone else.

If Kelsi handed me a note, with her pathetic little, "give that to Ryan please…?" it would never get to him. I'd tear it up and leave it on the floor. I did that with his homework by mistake. Several times.

Any classes he took, I'd take them too, and sit right behind him, so I could watch all that went on.

And, best of all, I made sure that no prom tickets found their way to his hands. I trained all of student council to tell him they were sold-out.

But I had two tickets, and that was what mattered.

The night of prom, I went and got him from his room (I doubt he even knew about prom, I was that good) and told him we were going together.

"Gosh Shar." He told me, "If you wanted me to go with you, you could've let me know."

And we went to prom, and had the greatest time, and I kissed him too.

I ignored the glares, those don't need to be taken seriously.


	8. So Tempting

There is nothing as tempting as a locked door.

She could just stand and stare at it, and she'd be content.

And she would never knock at it, that wasn't as alluring, so nor did she have a key.

She would retrieve her nail file from her purse, and slide the finer end of it into the lock, and jiggle the handle until she could enter.

Then she would pace in the doorway, absolutely silent, not daring turn on a single light.

She couldn't tell if he was awake or not, but why bother asking? That isn't any fun.

She would wait, and wait, sometimes for an hour, until he surprised her, scooping her up in his strong arms and sitting down beside her on the bed.

But still she wouldn't speak. She would just gaze at him.

He would ask again and again is she wanted him to kiss her.

She'd never answer. After he grew sick of asking the question, he'd kiss her anyway.

Still she would remain hushed. Some nights she would shiver, just to break the routine.

On those nights, he'd take the blanket from the foot of his bed and wrap it tightly around them both.

He would stare at her for awhile, she knew the routine. He'd wait for her to speak.

She would tell him something. Something pointless.

And that's when he'd kiss her again.

He'd ask her if she was okay, and she'd let him decide for himself, not speaking another word.

She enjoyed challenges, breaking rules and all that.

So it could only be that she sat beside her own brother on his bed every night.


	9. Understudies

"Oh come on Shar, you'll live."

"No, I won't, thank you very much."

There was a day like this every year. The day after they went trying out for touring companies on Broadway.

"So, you didn't get the lead? You're not a background dancer either, Pay."

"I wouldn't be this upset if you hadn't got the lead either!"

He gave her that one.

Here he was, Mr. Phantom of the Opera, and his sister was cast as Meg Giry.

"Only because you couldn't hit the higher notes if you tried, Pay. Opera really isn't your thing."

"Oh, because it's yours…"

"You'd have to dye your hair anyway, and I know you wouldn't do that."

He hated when she argued with him. It really couldn't even be classified as arguing, as she was guaranteed a win. It was more of just embarrassing Ryan in the end.

"Pay, please. I'm going to practice; you should come… unless you want to become an understudy real fast. That's the way to do it. Keep skipping practices…"

She hated that. How dare he even mention the word understudy while addressing her?!?

"Fine, I'm coming… But Ry?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we make a stop before we get to the theater? I need hair dye."

"Oh…?"

And she nodded. She didn't tell him she was also listed as Christine's understudy.


	10. Origins

Mom started it.

I made it worse.

Plenty of people furthered it.

And Sharpay finished it.

I don't remember that far back. But I very clearly remember Mom taking Shar and I to a summer camp sort of thing. Sharpay was the only kid there I talked too, and vice versa.

When, I don't know, I think we were six or seven; we went to a drama workshop (at Lava Springs, before my parents bought it.)

There weren't that many kids there. So (shocker) Sharpay tried out for one of the leads and got it. Everyone was afraid of her, so no one tried out for any other parts. (Another shocker) I got the other lead by default.

Then I made it worse.

Whatever plays we tried out for at school, I insisted on trying out alongside her, a packaged deal, if you will.

It was acting, we both enjoyed it.

Then, middle-school or so, came the plays with more prominent, romantic leads. Why not try out for those as well?

And, during those summers, Mom had both of us attending voice, dance, and piano lessons with some ex-Broadway coach.

I hate sounding full of myself, but I was better than Pay at all three, hands down.

She was jealous.

Our instructor always had one of those, "It takes practice." Speeches ready (Shar never practiced piano, I know that.) She'd ignore them.

At home, whenever we had parties, we were the entertainment. Generally, we'd have a number with both of us singing and dancing. Some love song, I don't remember.

Then Shar would force me into playing piano, and she'd sit on top of the piano and sing. I'd join her. Those were old songs, from the fifties and such. Great, upbeat love songs. Lots of fun. And no one there said anything.

Sharpay finished it.

She forced (and I mean she dragged me) into the East High music room our sophomore year. We knew Kelsi, we met her at Lava Springs the day our parents bought and re-opened it. She was hired to play piano in the main dining room for the day.

So, Shar dragged me into the music room. We were searching for Kelsi, and were just smart enough to check the most obvious place last.  
She was seated at the piano, playing a few notes, and then writing them down on a blank staff page on her lap.

Sharpay scared her, just shouting her name. Catching her completely off guard…

And Kelsi spun around.

"Yes, Sharpay… ma'am?"

"You write music, right?"

Kelsi nodded, very slightly.

"Have you written a play before, a musical?"

She shook her head, furiously.

"Well now you're going to. Write one for me and Ryan as the leads, alright?"

She nodded again.

And by Junior year, she had finished a script and score, just for us. Twinkle Towne (stupidest name I've ever heard) but great music.

And what happened?!? We didn't even get the parts!

Sharpay had edited the kiss scene at the end a thousand times, and we didn't even get to perform it.


	11. Prom Night

He hated being separated from her, especially at dances.

He'd dance with her once or twice, as casually as he could manage. But the rest of the evening he'd be dancing with Kelsi or Martha or whoever he'd dragged along.

But Prom was going to be different.

He'd planned everything out.

He couldn't just go home and ask her. This wasn't casual dinner conversation. And he had to outdo the grand "I love you" speech she had given him last year.

That's why he was sitting beside a panel of morning show hosts in a radio production room.  
Of course, it had to be publicized, Sharpay loved publicity; she was an actress.

He knew where she'd be, too. She was in her ridiculous pink Mustang, stuck in the traffic he had directed her to.  
He told her to meet him at the radio station, they would be singing (which was also true.)

"Alright, we're going to take a quick break, but first, an announcement from our special guest, a Ryan from nearby in Albuquerque…"

Ryan passed a note to the host, not wanting to say anything himself. If anyone from school were listening, they'd surely recognize his voice.

"Ryan wants to ask a Sharpay…"

The host turned to Ryan.

"What's her last name?"

"There's only one Sharpay at the school." He muttered back, quite annoyed.

"… if she'd go to Prom with him."

It was barely five minutes until Sharpay walked into the studio.

"Of course I will, little brother." She smiled, and kissed his cheek.

The host gasped, called the cops, and banned them both from the studio.

They wouldn't be singing on the radio that day, or ever.

"Wow Ryan." Sharpay said, as they were led from the building, "I think you overdid it. Just a bit too dramatic."

"You don't love drama?"

"Of course not, I love you."


	12. Eleven Words

"Shar, can you help me with this?"

Ryan turned in his chair and called through the hallway to her bedroom, which was adjacent to his own.

"What?" she was doing her nails, and didn't even bother to look at him.

"This essay for Drama... I need …um, eleven more words to meet the requirement."

"Oh...?"

He rolled his eyes to himself.

"Yes, would you just read it Shar?"

No answer from her.

"Fine." Ryan sighed to himself, and he went back to typing.

"Which color do you think for my pedicure?" was the next thing Sharpay said. She held up two shades of pink so that Ryan could see them from his room.  
"I don't _care_, Shar, just help me with this."

"I'm thinking about it."

He rolled his eyes again, exaggerated so that she could see it.

"Got it." She told him after a minute.

"What?"

"Eleven words for you, Genius."

"You haven't even read the essay! Come on Shar, I'm serious."

"If I enter your room, you won't get any work done."

He knew that, so did she.

She walked into his room, confident, and sat down beside him.


	13. Full Circle

Yes, he hated her. Most definitely _hated_ her.

Every bit of emotion he possessed hated her, every part of him capable of feeling felt only hate.

She'd tormented him in too many ways for too many years.

She'd ordered him around since childhood, and had never even thanked him. Not once, for anything he'd done for her.

She'd transformed into someone with no thoughts, no free-will. She'd turned him into nothing but her shadow.

With that position, his feelings all mixed themselves into hatred. It was in the job-description.

Not to be confused with jealousy, as anyone else would've felt.

Now, as her shadow, he was dragged into other things.

Now he became her personal coat-rack, secretary, punching bag, safety-net…

But also, he became (because she allowed him to) her back-up singer, her date to most school dances, her romantic lead, and her dance partner.

_Partner_, the place where they were equal.

Everywhere else, she was far superior.

He _loved _dancing, because it made them equal, made them one. And the spotlights shone on both of them, and no one was ever shadowed, literally or figuratively.

He'd put all his free-time into rehearsal, and getting all the moves exactly right.

And, after a performance, as the audience applauded them, both of them, he'd look at her. And he'd smile.

For just a second, she'd smile back, and for just a second, he loved her.

Undeniably loved her.

* * *

**There we go, that was fun. This was somehow inspired from me watching "Blades of Glory" last night. Don't ask how, because I'm not sure myself. **


	14. One

One person.

He was one person. _She_ was also one person. (Oh, the thrilling commonalities.)

Odd, how, when they got together, they were nothing more.

But they were so… different! Why were they thought of as the same person? Always!

That "opposites attract" nonsense had _nothing_on Sharpay and Ryan.

One was timid. Ridiculously so.

A theater was a frightening place. The stage an enemy.

The other spoke. Constantly.

Everything required her commentary and every stage required her presence.

One without the other was a waste of time. Sure, Sharpay would perform fine. Ryan would go about reading, not mingling, just fine as well.

But, putting them both together, for any situation, would produce something matchless and indescribable.

They functioned in perfect sync. One could finish the other's sentence without thinking twice.

Their minds were common realty, used by whoever needed them. They swore that their memory was also conjoined, and switched between people at will.

If one were falling, the other could reach back to help them, just out of habit.

This couldn't be achieved by anyone else, as hard as they tried.

Maybe that was it. Trying.

Neither of them really _tried_. It just happened.

Love... That just _happened_ too.

But no one dared to intervene.

There was no name for it, the love they carried on. Sharpay would call for her brother, only when she _needed_ him, and he would do anything she asked, without hesitation.

The romance clandestine, yet the people inseparable.

They stood so close together, someone could be tricked into thinking that they were stuck that way.

This… this _love _changed everything though. It progressed rapidly through both of their systems like an epidemic.

Ryan was acting. He had gotten roles in various things. Fine.

Without Sharpay?  
Yes.

Sharpay stayed at home. She didn't like late parties or opening night anymore.

Not even if she was dragged along with Ryan?

Nope.

But they couldn't drift apart. There was no "break-up" on the horizon.

They were _one_ person. You can't divide from yourself, can you?

Both were hurting, neither could help.

It tore up at them both, the thoughts of being alone. They longed to be together, to stay the way they were now, though neither particularly enjoyed it.

Staying together had now become necessity. No, beyond necessity, it had reached the point of inevitable. They couldn't stray from it. They wanted to, didn't want to, no one was sure.

It was an argument, though silently expressed.

They _needed_ each other. They completed each other.

As only two people can do.

* * *

**A note that may or may not concern you:**

Soooooooo.... abandoning stories is bad. 

**Lila, I totally wrote this for you. Yay yelling at the TV at three in the morning! That's what this does to you.**

Let me know what you think, everyone!


	15. Balance

Sure, they were balanced. They were the ideal couple. A match made in heaven. The perfect fit.

Use whatever phrase you like, they all apply.

She was in charge. He tagged along.

She was daring. He waited in her shadow.

She was some twisted sort of genius. He could barely finish his classes.

She was a star (correction: _the_ star). He was there in the background.

She was proud. He was humble.

She had a precise schedule. He'd read off of hers.

What did he have going on his side?

His side contained all the love.

She had very little.

* * *

**Oh snap. I wrote a drabble that is actually 100 words. Exactly. (Excluding this pointless note) What do you think?**


	16. More Than That

Nothing is perfect.

Well, _she_ is perfect, but nothing else is quite up to par.

Ryan could practice move after move until the spotlights blinded him.

"No Ryan, more than that!" she'd hiss, "More exaggerated steps. Again!"

But he _adored _her, and did whatever she asked. Another hour or two of rigorous dancing was nothing for the heaven she offered.

Well, borderline hell. She taunted him. She often shouted at him. She gave him countless orders without a single kind gesture in return. And... She was his sister.

She wanted perfection. He wanted her (oh, also perfection.)

Neither was easy, or even possible, to achieve.

Ryan could sing through an entire scale, in search of the perfect harmony. And, once he'd found it, she'd look for some other miniscule mistake.

"No. _More _than that, Ryan! More emotion. Again, from the top!"

His mind would wander after that phrase. Yes, there'd be a nice, passionate emotion in the next bar of the song, his dreams made sure of this.

Meanwhile, she would continue her harsh analysis.

Ryan would complete his own homework (and hers) each evening, after they returned from theater practice. She'd hover over him, only to amuse herself. It made _him_ quite uncomfortable, however.

"Oh, Ryan! That equation's all wrong." She'd inform him, "It's more than that. More than five, okay?"

He'd work the problem out repeatedly, until it was up to her standards.

Ryan always made sure to coordinate his outfit with hers, with the futile hope that she would approve, or, for once... notice.

But she'd stop him, every morning as they approached the front door. Sometimes, she'd even meet him in the hallway between their rooms.

"More of that!" she'd say, pointing at some color or design, "That looks nice, but you know, it doesn't match the pants."

He'd go and change at her request, occasionally dragging her to the room with him.

...To make the final selection, of course.

She was worst during straight dramas. Forget musicals, she was even crueler during the fall productions at school.

Ryan could read the same line literally a thousand times, in any accent, inflection or volume she commanded. Never enough.

"No, that's _all_ wrong!"

Wrong. Oh yes, his feelings for her _were_ all wrong, she was thinking like he was now. Then his mind would wander around that track for awhile.

"More than that, Ryan! More volume, more of that angry tone, more energy. Let's try the scene again."

She'd snapped at him one day. She'd finally had enough of his best attempts, and she'd lost it.

He wasn't terribly injured, nor was he discouraged. She had only slapped him a few times, no harder than she'd done before. But she'd shouted and screamed at him.

He didn't flinch.

If anything, he inched closer to her side, as if pulled there magnetically.

Gently, ever so gently, he wrapped an arm over her trembling shoulders. Something inside her halted any plans of hurting him again.

"What...? _What_, Ryan?!?" she spoke quietly, but still conveyed an unnatural amount of resentment.

He turned her so that she was looking him right in the eyes. She froze.

Well, here was something new! She'd found perfection, there in his eyes. She felt comfortable and safe as she gazed into them.

They were an endless, shimmering blue.

"It's okay, Shar." He told her, brushing a finger tenderly up her cheek. He collected a few tears.

He pulled her closer to his chest. She leaned her head over his shoulder, perfectly serene.

Still holding onto her, Ryan rocked back and forth to some non-existent rhythm.

She removed her head, now decorated with new tears. He moved one hand to her face, cupping it softly. He leaned forward then, as if to kiss her.

"Ryan... y-you're my br-brother." She stated.

As if he didn't know. Ha! That fact completed both fantasies and jail sentences.

Amazing how that works...

"No, Sharpay." He whispered, as he pulled her in closer, "_More_ than that."

* * *

**I'm quite proud of this one. Mwaha. Just thought you'd care. Do you? Should you? Do I?**

**(I'm very tired, please ignore this nonsense)  
**

**But really, what do you think? Anyone even read these anymore?**


	17. The Escape

If I can escape from this horrific, torturous thing called reality, I'm sure I can manage a jail-break.

My escape from the first is simple.

All I've got to do is find _her_, which is also unbelievably easy. She's right across the hall.

I throw my backpack down to my bedroom floor, cursing its existence and the homework it contains.

"Ryan?"

A chill spirals down my neck. I do love when she says my name. I didn't even have to ask this time.

I walk directly into her room.

Knocking on the door? Asking permission? She doesn't love me for my polite qualities, but for the more demanding side of me.

Only with her, and only at home, do I allow myself to act like this.

Sharpay is sitting on her neatly made bed, studying me. Her lips are twisted into a tight, sly sort of pout. One of her eyebrows rises as well, adding to the effect.

"What, _Ryan_?" she purposely drags out my name. Her smile joins my own as I sit down beside her.

She removes my hat from my head with trembling fingers. It gets thrown across the room, slamming into the wall. It is the only sound present.

I lie down, and nudge my sister down with me.

Here, next to her, I'm actually worth something. My classes, my friends, my worries, they're worth nothing. She is my only goal, and she's been reached.

There is no need for me to tap into her mind; I've been inside of it my whole life.

"God, Ryan..." she whispers after a minute, "I _love_ you."

"Mm hmm." I practically hum.

Gently, I place her head over my shoulder. Her knees fold in front of her, as she turns on her side. Her breath is warm against the softer side of my arm.

I can feel a devious smile twisting onto my face.

I'm her _man_, she's told me before. Would anyone ever say anything like that to _me_ of all people?

But does _she_ care the way I dress? No.

Though I like to_ pretend_ she hates my clothing, because she tears it off of me frequently.

Has Sharpay, far superior, ever been so dependent on a person? No.

She doesn't like to admit it. Not even when we're alone. I need to pry it out of her mind, for my interpretation only...

Without even thinking, her lips crash into my own, throwing her scarlet lipstick over my cheek, neck, and as far down my chest as she can reach.

Do you see this ridiculous, backward world I like to live in? Or at least pretend that I can...

It's much better than reality.

A hopeful, impatient whine from Sharpay confirms this, as she reaches for the collar of my shirt, while still engulfed in our deep kiss.


End file.
